


A Place to Lay My Head

by GuiltyRed



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Crack, Gen, adult implications, some language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-05
Updated: 2010-01-05
Packaged: 2017-10-05 20:31:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuiltyRed/pseuds/GuiltyRed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sleep-deprived Vincent Valentine is not a pretty sight. Not at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Place to Lay My Head

**Author's Note:**

> Title: A Place to Lay My Head  
> Rating: PG13  
> Warnings: Crack, some language, adult implications.  
> Word count: 1275  
> Prompt: Final Fantasy VII, ?/Vincent/? : sleepwalking - Vincent doesn't sleep often but when he does he prefers not to be alone. Bed hopping a plus. Bonus for involving all characters on the Highwind or such in some form or other.  
> Summary: A sleep-deprived Vincent Valentine is not a pretty sight. Not at all.  
> A/N: Weirdly enough, MS Word actually included Barret's censored speech in the word count…

With no place to land, the _Highwind_ hovered majestically at anchor above the rocky cliffs. Her passengers and crew needed rest before they could continue their journey, and though it had been with some mild trepidation that Cid had agreed to stop without actually landing, he had seen the wisdom of not flying on exhausted. The last time he’d tried that he’d nearly ripped a rudder on a low-flying Bahamut, and if there’s one thing that must be said for Cid Highwind it was that he never failed to learn from his mistakes. Given the sheer volume of those mistakes, that made for a rather wise man.

On board, all was still…

* * * * *

Barret stirred and stretched in his sleep, massive muscles flexing before curling back into a fetal position on the cold floor. The sensation of cool wood against his bare thighs worked its way into his unconscious, changing a once-pleasant dream of mortal combat to a weird and misplaced vista of polar ice fishing.

“Wha?” Barret roused slowly, half-convinced he had already frozen to death before realizing that the reason for his cold discomfort was that a) he’d been lying on the floor because b) someone else had rolled him clean out of his hammock. “What the #$@&amp;?!?? Who the *!^% stole my @#%%#!&amp; bed??!?? And my blankets!”

A muffled complaint from the hammock brought Barret to his feet. “Five more minutes, Veld…”

“What in the $#%%?? _Vincent?_ That you?”

Vincent blinked blearily down at him from the comfort of the spacious hammock. “You didn’t have to sleep on the floor, Barret. I don’t take up that much room.”

“You looney, you knocked me out of my @#$#&amp;*^ bed!”

Vincent sighed. “I suppose you want it back now?”

“Yes, please!”

Gracefully disentangling himself from the netting, Vincent neatened the blankets a bit before offering Barret a leg up. As the red-clad enigma that was Vincent Valentine left Barret’s quarters, the burly warrior watched him go, wondering just what in the #&amp;@@ had possessed him to come in in the first place. Barret refused to speculate on where the man might be going next…

* * * * *

Yuffie snuggled into the warmth in her bed and dreamed of giant kittens. She hugged one of them, only to find oversized claws poking her in the ribs.

“Yowch!” Yuffie startled awake, rubbing at her side.

Her fingers encountered something cold and hard and pointy.

Ninja reflexes activated, Yuffie leapt from the bed and dropped into a fighting stance that, on a larger person, might have looked intimidating. “Okay, who’s gonna pay for getting in my bed?”

“Oh, no, I wasn’t after _that_…”

“What?” She glowered at the intruder. “Vincent? What are you doing in my cabin?”

He sat up, swaying slightly and yawning. “I’m sorry, Yuffie, but I’m trying to get some sleep and I do better with company.”

Yuffie straightened, hands on her hips. “Then why aren’t you staying with Cid?”

Vincent scowled, puzzled. “Why would you ask that?”

Yuffie blinked, surprised. “You know, aren’t you – and Cid – I mean, everyone thinks you’re…”

“…what?”

Yuffie turned away from him to gather her wits. Unfortunately she did this a little too quickly and ended up reeling toward the bucket she kept for just such emergencies. “Ooooh…I hate flying!”

“We’re parked, actually…”

“We’re still floating!”

“Anyway, what were you saying about Cid?”

“Er…nothing,” Yuffie stammered, blushing furiously. “Just thought you’d be comfortable in his bed, that’s all.”

“What are you telling me, Yuffie?”

“Oh, just go away and let me try not to be motion sick!”

Bemused, Vincent let himself out her door, muttering as he went. “I need to get some real sleep soon, or things will turn…ugly…”

* * * * *

Cloud shifted and giggled. A large pink chocobo was preening him like a chick, and it tickled to high heaven. He tried to push it away, but it had its arms wrapped around his waist like a kid holding onto a moogle doll.

Wait – _arms?_

Cracking one eye open, Cloud found his dream fading into an even weirder reality: powerful arms covered in dense purple fur kept him immobile as a wide pink tongue groomed his hair with slow and sensual devotion.

“Aaaaaghhh!!!” Cloud leaped free in the way that only a SOLDIER can manage – that is to say, quickly, completely, and with style. Rather than go for his sword, however, he settled for yelling. “Vincent, what do you think you’re doing? Drop out of that limit break and talk to me like a man!”

The Galian Beast yawned mightily, displaying impressive canines and breath like a well-fed jungle cat.

Cloud sniffed disapprovingly, then raised a hand to his quite-damp spikes. “Oh, goddess! I bet you made me stink!”

Galian Beast had the good grace to look chagrined, rather like a dog that had just been caught farting.

“Look,” Cloud tried again, wiping his hand on his trousers, “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you can’t sleep in my bunk! I’m – I’m a highly trained killing machine, for crying out loud!” He gaped as his memory did that pause/skip/rewind thing, then shook his head and added, “Well, I’m something, anyway. Still, you can’t stay here, it’s just not right.”

The purple behemoth’s form shimmered, and then Vincent was sitting on the bed, his eyes shadowed with fatigue. “I understand. I apologize for the intrusion.” He stared a moment, then frowned. “Why is your hair wet, and why do I taste old feathers?”

Cloud blushed and pointed at the door.

* * * * *

Sleep held Tifa in its gentle grasp, too deep for dreams now. She slept soundly, unaware of the chaos that had been plaguing the other passengers of the _Highwind_.

The Chaos that was now plaguing her, however, propped himself up on one elbow and stared down at the unconscious form beside him.

Her bosom rose and fell with her breathing, a delightful feminine contour he hadn’t seen up close in a long damn time. Her lips were slightly parted, moist and plump. Her hair fell soft across her forehead.

Her snoring could strip the paint from the walls.

Chaos sighed and folded his hands over his ears, trying to ignore the noise but to no avail: she snorted and cranked it up another notch.

He tried staring at her in the hopes she would spontaneously wake and stop that infernal racket.

She slept right through it.

Finally, pushed beyond his, Vincent’s, and Galian’s endurance, Chaos did the only thing he could think of.

He left in search of gentler quarters.

* * * * *

“Aw, would ya look at that?”

“I never thought Vincent could look so…_cute_.”

Cid gazed down fondly at the sleeping man. “He’ll kill ya if he hears ya say that.”

“What happened last night?”

“Don’t know, but considerin’ how he ended up, I don’t wonder if it’s one hell of a story!”

“If he remembers any of it,” Cloud muttered darkly. He self-consciously touched his hair, then smelled his hand. Glowering, he turned and headed back to the washroom.

“Be quiet,” Nanaki whispered, shifting carefully so as not to wake the man using him as a pillow. “I found him in my bed and didn’t have the heart to kick him out.”

Barret, Yuffie, and Tifa tip-toed away, barely muffling their laughter.

Totally oblivious, Vincent lay peacefully, curled up against Nanaki’s side. He was hugging the oversized moogle doll like a child’s toy, with Cait Sith sprawled inelegantly in the crook of his arm like a real cat.

Cid scratched his chin and shifted the unlit cigarette to the other side of his mouth. “Stubborn son of a bitch. Wonder why he didn’t just ask _me_?”


End file.
